Stand-In Father (Intimate Moments) (9 page)

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Authors: Pat Warren

BOOK: Stand-In Father (Intimate Moments)
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“Mom, where’s the watermelon?” Ryan asked. Cake was great, but he positively adored watermelon.
“I’ll get it,” Grace said, passing out dessert forks.
“Please,” Alex said, rising, “allow me. It’s really heavy.” Not looking at Megan or waiting for a reply, he left the yard and hurried to the kitchen.
Megan poured iced tea, milk or coffee all around, very aware of Alex at the buffet table slicing watermelon and Grace serving.
“This cake’s delicious, dear,” Jean said to Megan. “But then, everything at your table always is.”
Passing her chair, Megan touched the older woman’s shoulder. “Thank you, Jean.” She carried the tea pitcher to the buffet table where Alex had just finished. All right, bite the bullet, she told herself. “Thanks for helping.”
“My pleasure.” Stepping closer, he took her hand in his, turned it over to examine her bandaged finger before she could pull away. “How’s your cut? Those knife slices can hurt like the devil.”
There were four tiki torches placed around the backyard. They’d been enough at twilight, but nearly two hours later, the lighting was dim and romantic from the flickering flames. The radio played softly in the background. Overhead, tree branches swayed in a gentle breeze and a lone cricket could be heard serenading nearby. For a long moment, time seemed to stand still as Alex watched Megan’s blue eyes darken, saw awareness leap into them as their look held.
“It’s fine, thanks.” But she didn’t pull her hand back.
She was wearing a scoop-necked white peasant blouse with a multicolored full skirt and white sandals, her hair falling softly to her shoulders. He felt a crazy urge to touch the ends to see if her hair was as soft as it looked. His free hand started up and...
Alex cleared his throat and stepped back. What the hell was he thinking?
Megan swallowed hard and prayed he couldn’t tell how her heart was pounding beneath the thin cotton material of her blouse. Moving aside, she busied herself getting extra napkins and the bowl of lemon slices.
Why did Alex Shephard have to come here and upset her nice, safe, boring life? She liked boring. It sure beat having her husband come home drunk as a skunk, embarrassing her in front of their guests, or forget to come home for days at a time. Yes, she’d choose boring every time.
Only she’d bet that no one around Alex Shephard was ever bored for long.
Within ten minutes, the party had broken up, the guests going off to their rooms or wherever. Though he knew she didn’t really need the assistance, Alex offered to walk Mrs. K to her room, listening to her chatter all the way. Walking back out, he passed Ryan, who’d been sent up to get ready for bed. “See you tomorrow, sport,” he called after the thundering feet on the back stairs.
Ryan stopped. “Hey, Mr. Shephard, my next game’s tomorrow night. Maybe you could come?” The small voice was hopeful.
“I’ll see what I can do. Good night, Ryan.” He opened the screen just in time for Grace to walk through, her arms laden with bowls of leftover food. “If you’ve got a tray, I can start bringing in some dishes.” He caught her dubious look. “What, you, too? You want to spend half the night cleaning up here?”
“Not especially, but Megan doesn’t—”
“Grace, give me a tray. I’ll handle Megan.”
She handed him a tray, then smiled to herself as he went back out. So he was going to handle Megan, eh? This should be good.
Out in the yard, he didn’t wait for permission, but started stacking plates onto the tray. He had only a moment to wait for the anticipated reaction.
“What are you doing? I thought I told you that—”
“Yeah, you did.” He was ready for her. Stopping, he turned to face her. “You told me it was your kitchen, your flower garden,your bed-and-breakfast. That’s fine because I have no intention of taking over. But look at you. You’ve been working since six this morning and now it’s nine at night. You’re ready to drop you’re so tired and your finger’s wet all the way through the bandage and probably throbbing like hell. Why can’t you accept a little help?”
She didn’t have the energy for this right now, Megan thought. “Listen, Mr. Shephard, I can handle this without your help, like I’ve been doing for years. I take my responsibilities very seriously.”
“That’s very admirable, Mrs. Delaney. But right now, you’re exhausted. Please, go inside and upstairs to your son. Grace and I will finish up here. You can yell at me tomorrow if it’ll make you feel better.”
To his surprise, she set down the towel she’d been holding, turned from him and went inside. Letting out a big breath, Alex went to work.
Moments later, Grace came out carrying two plastic trash bags. “If I hadn’t seen and heard that with my own eyes and ears through the open window, I’d have bet good money against it ever happening. Alex Shephard, I think I’m going to have to rethink my opinion of you.”
In the dim light of a glimmering tiki torch, he smiled at her. “All right, but when you do, as they say, please be kind.”
Her robust laugh rang out in the evening air.
 
Cruising along in his Porsche, Alex spoke on his car phone. “The bank’s not going to give us any trouble, Dad. But I need you to order a feasibility study for me. I’d like our people on it instead of using someone up here. It’s a good parcel and wouldn’t require much clearing. There’s gas and electric at the street. But I’m not sure that this town can support an influx of middle-income residents.” He’d already talked earlier with his secretary and Mitch, but Alex knew his father liked a personal report.
“I’ll get right on it. Did you meet with the owner?”
Alex turned, heading up the hill. “Owner’s incapacitated. I met with his three adult children. The one with the power of attorney’s giving me a bit of a hassle, but I think he’d come around if we got serious.”
“Good. So you’ll be heading home?” Ron Shephard still wasn’t happy having his son away too long. Transplants were tricky.
“Not yet. I’m checking a few other things out.” Namely one widow and her son.
“But you’re feeling all right, taking your pills?” He knew it would irritate Alex to be asked, but he couldn’t stop himself.
“I’m feeling fine and being a good boy, so stop worrying.”
“Yeah, all right. Just take it easy.”
If he took it any easier, he’d be comatose. “Talk with you later.” Alex hung up and swung into Delaney’s lot. He’d gone running this morning, skipping the inn’s breakfast, hoping to give Megan a little more time before facing him. He wasn’t sure just what reaction he’d get after her surprising turnabout last night.
After showering, he’d gone into town, walked through the shops and had an early lunch before meeting with a couple of bankers. So he hadn’t seen Megan at all, or even Grace.
Strolling into the lobby, he noticed Walter and Jean playing gin rummy in the lounge and waved to them. Grace was behind the check-in desk punching in figures on an adding machine. “Hi,” he said.
Grace glanced up and smiled. “Well, if it isn’t the miracle man.”
Alex glanced toward the kitchen. Since it was nearly five, he figured that Megan was probably there either fixing Ryan’s dinner or already starting her nightly baking. “How is she today? Happy as a clam or gunning for me?”
“Nah, she’s fine. A little subdued. Still tired, I’d guess.”
“She works too hard.”
“You don’t have to tell me.” She paused, her fingers poised over the keys. “What I would like you to tell me is why you’re so concerned.”
The woman was blunt, but Alex knew it was probably because she cared a great deal for Megan. “I hate to see anyone, especially a young, attractive woman, bury herself in work day after day. When did Megan last take some time off?” When Grace shook her head, he knew he was right. “See what I mean?”
“Yes, I do, and I agree. But I still can’t figure you.” Pointedly, she glanced outside toward his blue Porsche, then at his gold Rolex watch, his casually expensive clothes. “I’d wager you’re pretty well off, your daddy owns the store, and you’re here on a business trip, one of many in your travels around the state. What’s it to you if Megan, or any of us, for that matter, work hard or not at all?”
Guilty knowledge had Alex jamming his hands into his back pockets and gazing down at his shoes.
Because if it wasn’t for me, Megan would have her husband here beside her and she wouldn’t have to work so hard.
“You’re right, Grace. My daddy owns the store. But he started off as a young apprentice carpenter and worked his way up. He still puts in more hours a day than most men half his age. Before my mother got sick and died, she used to work in the office. Both my brother and I started doing odd jobs on his construction projects after school as soon as we hit our teens. I know what hard work is and that it can take you over. I’ve always believed that you need to balance work with pleasure. And I don’t think Megan takes much time out to play. Am I right?”
“You’re right. She runs around here at top speed. I’m always telling her to slow down. But I repeat, why do you care whether or not she does?”
Alex saw the shrewd way she was watching him. “Are you trying to make me say something here, Grace? All right, you caught me. I find her attractive and I’d like to show her some fun. Is that so wrong?”
Grace pursed her lips thoughtfully a moment, feeling certain that Alex Shephard could show a woman all manner of fun things. “No, as long as you don’t hurt her. Anyone who does will have to answer to me.”
He smiled. “I’ll remember that. Is she in the kitchen?”
“No, she’s at Ryan’s ball game.”
“Oh, right. He invited me yesterday and it slipped my mind.” He wasn’t used to considering an eight-year-old’s activities when he thought about a woman. “Where’s the game being played?”
Grace told him, then watched him hurry back out to his car, wondering if she’d done the right thing. Sure, she’d wanted someone in Megan’s life, but this guy was coming on awfully fast. She’d never been one to trust fast.
 
Megan held her breath as the boy at bat swung, hitting the ball directly toward her son at shortstop. Ryan saw it coming, moved into position and waited, shuffling his feet nervously, his eye on the ball. His teammates began chanting for him to get it. Some of the two dozen or so parents and relatives in the bleachers rose to their feet. The ball arced high. Ryan took one step closer and trapped it in his mitt.
“Fly ball. You’re out!” yelled the umpire.
It was the third out, putting Ryan’s team up to bat. The boys came running in, high-fiving the shortstop, cheering. One grabbed Ryan’s baseball cap and turned it around backward on his head. And through it all, Ryan’s grin grew and grew. Finally, he had a chance to catch his mother’s eye. She gave him a big thumbs-up and whistled through her teeth. Ryan grinned some more.
“Where’d you learn to whistle like that?” Alex asked as he slid into the empty space on the bleachers beside Megan.
Startled, she jumped. What on earth was Alex Shephard doing here? Was there no place she could go where those penetrating green eyes wouldn’t be watching her?
Shifting over, she made room for him on the bench. “I was the oldest of three sisters and the only tomboy. A kid down the street nicknamed Sharkey taught me how to whistle, how to do wheelies and how to shoot marbles. Then he got mad when I beat him and took all his marbles.”
Alex laughed. “Poor Sharkey. I’ll bet he still doesn’t trust women. Teach ’em all you know and they wind up walking away with all your marbles.”
“You could be right. I hear he’s on wife number three.” Megan swung her eyes back to the field and found her son sitting on the bench waiting his turn at bat. “I didn’t thank you yesterday for giving Ryan some pointers. Did you see that catch he just made?”
“Yeah, pretty terrific. He’s a cute kid.” She was wearing a baseball cap, too, with her hair gathered into a ponytail and dangling out the back. He thought she looked way too young to be the mother of any of the boys out on the field and told her so. “You must have been a child bride.”
Her face clouded for just a moment. “Pretty much. Barely out of high school. Dumb move. I don’t advise it.” Megan turned, squinting in the late-afternoon sun, suddenly curious. “I guess you escaped the old matrimonial bug.”
“Not really.” Alex gazed off toward the field. “I got married right after college. It lasted eleven months.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It never should have happened.” He shifted, met her eyes. “Was your marriage a good one?” There he went, nosing around again. But he’d been wondering ever since talking with Emily at the Cornerstone.
It was Megan’s turn to gaze off into space, wanting to be fair without lying. “It was, for a while. Things change. People change.”
“That’s the truth.”
“It’s never just one person’s fault.”
“No, it isn’t.” Oddly, he felt better knowing that at the time of Neal’s death, their marriage hadn’t been the best. Better, but even more guilty. “About last night,” he began. “I apologize if I was too bossy. Dad says I always think I know what’s best for people and I don’t mind sharing my strong opinions with them.”

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